


Dis-accords

by spiderstanspiderstan



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), civil war - Fandom
Genre: Dialogue Heavy, Gen, Post-Captain America: Civil War (Movie), Sociopolitical tantruming, peter parker is FIFTEEN and i wont shut up about it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-22
Updated: 2016-05-22
Packaged: 2018-06-10 02:26:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,128
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6934525
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spiderstanspiderstan/pseuds/spiderstanspiderstan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Peter finds out what he wasn't being told, and is, understandably, angry about it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dis-accords

**Author's Note:**

> I'm assuming that the accords aren't really the type of thing Peter would have known about in detail, because most kids his age don't follow politics and all that jazz.

Tony wasn’t prepared.

He was on his eighth hour of coffee and coding. It was four in the morning. He was trying to forget the phone in his desk. He'd gotten about an hour's sleep since it arrived.

Not really the time of day you’d expect a superpowered high schooler to come crashing through your window.

Spider-man landed in a crouch on the floor, wobbled from the momentum, and stood up. Glass shards glittered around his feet.

“ _Fuck_ you,” He said.

“Good evening to you too.” Tony replied, not looking up from his tablet. A pet project was still a project. A lovely, distracting, project.

“It’s not even evening! It’s like four am! Which doesn’t matter at all! My point is, fuck you!” Peter stormed over and slammed his hands on the kitchen island. The marble cracked, as did his voice on the second _fuck._ “You didn’t tell me what that fight was _about_ . You can’t put a _committee_ in charge of the goddamn Avengers! What the hell, Tony?”

Tony rubbed a hand across his face. He’d _known_ this was coming, he’d expected it. But he’d called it catastrophizing.

“Kid,” He said. “You don’t _understand_. I couldn’t explain an issue like this to you in the space of a day. How many hours before Germany did I recruit you? And I doubt you read the accords. You wouldn’t get it.”

“No, no, I _completely_ get it.” Peter insisted. “If you let the UN decide who you fight, you know what they’ll do? They’ll stand the Avengers on the border and leave you there, or they’ll argue over sending you to political enemies, or- _god_! You can’t put your morals in the hands of some detached old randoms who’ve never seen crime up close!”

“Kid. Peter. You are _fifteen years old_ ,” Tony said. “You’re not stupid, but you’re _fifteen_ . You don’t _get_ what it’s like to have everything fall apart because of a conflict bigger than you, to destroy lives as a _side effect_. You’re a street-level hero, and I can respect that, but you haven’t seen international conflict like the rest of us.”

Peter tensed at that. Tony knew he hated being reduced to his age; it’d been what got him on the team in the first place, most likely. Proving that he was more than just _fifteen._

Tony hadn’t realised that until he’d had to get the kid to _stop_ fighting.

“I might not have seen anything worse than Germany.” Peter’s fists tightened at his sides, and Tony ran a thumb across the face of his watch. He might need his armour. “But I know a little bit about how the world works. I’ve had enough experience to see why the accords won’t!”

“Kid-”

“Call me kid _one more time_.” Peter hissed. Tony’d never seen him so angry. It was easier than he’d expected, to feel threatened by a kid half a head shorter than him and a third of his age. Peter’s stance had shifted, too- widened, tensed, like he expected to be hit.

“Okay then, _Mr. Parker_ .” Tony said. He stood up, turned off his tablet. “You’re still missing the point. This is about the Avengers and the civilian casualties _we_ caused. You’re not an Avenger, not yet. Not if you keep this up. This isn’t _your_ fight.”  

Peter yanked off his mask, so Tony could see a bloom of purple and red around his eye, still unhealed. Bones had broken. He’d heard the crunch when Peter hit the concrete. The hitching in the boy’s breathing still suggested broken ribs.

Healing factor, he’d said. Still developing, but injuries basically didn’t matter, he’d said.

He seemed to have lied. Or overestimated it, at least.

“If it’s not my fight,” Peter said, talking carefully around the fractures. “Then _why was I in it_?”

He looked younger, with the bruises. Tony felt a familiar stab of guilt.

“Because you _could_ be an Avenger.” He said. His collapsible gauntlet crawled out from his watch- he might have to catch a punch. “Or, you could have been. You’re strong, Peter, and you’re smart, but you’re not emotionally ready for a job like this.”  

“Then why bring me in the first place?” Peter asked, crossing his arms in a display of petulant rage. “You said it yourself. I’m _fifteen_ ! If I’m too young to be an avenger, how am I old enough to _fight_ Avengers?”

“You’re...enhanced. You can lift tonnes. You have a healing factor and super-senses, and the best non-lethal weapons in the world strapped to your wrists.”  Tony countered. “You’re not incapable, you’re just immature. I was under the impression you’d cope better with the responsibility.”

He wasn’t _wrong_ to bring him in; not explicitly.  Peter Parker had been a...dubious choice. A last resort. Not a mistake. He’d needed the manpower, and the non-lethal tech, and Peter was easiest to convince.

It didn't sound great, thinking like that, but they were arguing mostly over Parker’s adolescent understanding of politics rather than anything else. He'd ended up fine. And he’d needed the help, anyway.

Nobody could villainise Tony for funding a kid who was just starting out. He was much less likely to get hurt, with decent technology and better experience.

“Argumentum ad hominem, Mister Stark!” Peter said. There was an irritating hint of smugness to his voice; he was _convinced_ that he was in the right. “It doesn’t matter what I’m like, it matters that the accords are _idiotic_! What if they’d stopped you when there were aliens in New York? You threw a bomb into a, a, space vortex portal thing! That’s endangering government assets, according to the accords!”

“You don’t have an argument, Peter. People _died_ in New York. We cost Sokovia _trillions._ ” Tony answered. Peter was just completely failing to _get_ it. He stepped towards the simple, borrowed a metaphor. “The Avengers are _dangerous_. Would you let an assault rifle make its own decisions?”

“I _know_ people died in New York! _I_ almost died in New York! I was _there_ !” Peter’s voice spiked in pitch and volume.“And I looked up and I saw _you_ , flying across the sky chasing this... _leviathan_ , and I thought, thank god. The Avengers are here. I won’t die today.”

“Cute anecdote, but-”

Peter held up a hand, and Tony stopped, for a second.

“You were there for the battle of New York, and some people died, and there was a lot of collateral damage. I get it, you feel guilty about it. I’ve been there,” He said, a fraction of a measure calmer for a fraction of a second. Tony wondered what he _possibly_ thought could compare. “But if you weren’t, _everyone_ would have died! Literally _everyone_ ! A demigod was trying to invade the entire fucking _Earth_!”

“ _Peter-_ ” Tony began a plead, a counter-argument, _something_. Peter cut him off again, this time with what was almost certainly intended to be a slap. Tony caught his thin wrist in mid-air. The momentum was blocked completely- that hadn’t been a full-force hit.

Tony loosened his grip, marginally. Glared.

“No! Just, no! You can’t predict the next Sokovia or the next Lagos!” Peter yanked his arm free of the gauntlet and scrambled up the wall, out of reach. “What if someone tries some shit somewhere the government doesn’t like? What then? Will you just let thousands of people die?”

“Obviously not. That won’t happen.” Tony said.“They'll send us in where nothing else will work. Minimise the damage. There are still services for disasters that don’t need us.”

“When you have the power to stop these things happening,” Peter said, looking somewhere between enraged and heartbroken. “And you don’t, they happen _because of you_. And you’ve just signed away your right to save the world.”

 _And that’s why I’m doing this_ . Tony didn’t say. _To stop bad things happening. To keep kids like you safe._

Signed away your right to save the world.

God. That was almost a word for word quote. Where the hell had he gotten that ideology?

“Have you been talking to Captain America?” Tony asked. That would explain this... _tantrum_ . Steve had a way with people; there was a reason they’d used him for propaganda. He was soft blue eyes and a model jawline, like he’d been genetically engineered to say _trust me._ Almost anyone would agree with America's hero. 

“What?” Peter seemed momentarily taken aback. “No. I haven’t seen him since Germany. Just because _you_ influenced me, doesn’t mean I don’t have my own opinions.”

“So you’ve never talked to him,” Tony said. “You just _agree_ with him.”

Peter nodded, a short, sharp, guarded movement.

What Tony did next was...

Insidious. Corporate. A product of a lifetime of business deals and press-dodging.

“Okay, then. Strip.” When Peter just looked confused, Tony explained. “You’re wearing hundreds of dollars of my technology. My _property_ , actually. If you’re not on my side, why should you reap the benefits of it? Give me back my tech and go, if you want to.”

He regretted the words almost before he finished his sentence.

“You _asshole_ . You, you, manipulative, bourgeois _asshole,_ ” Peter said. He sounded like he’d pushed through anger and come out the other side. His voice was cool, calm, and heavy with complete and utter _loathing_ . “You know, I thought you wanted to _help_ me. I thought this was that _philanthropy_ you’re always talking about. You gonna do this to your MIT kids, too?”

He crawled across the ceiling and dropped in front of the broken window, pulling his mask back on. Glass shards snapped under his feet.

At the last second he casually aimed over his shoulder, and webbed Tony’s arm to the island.

Tony watched, trapped, as Spider-Man stepped towards the window.

“Wait!” He yelled. “Peter, look, I’m sorry. You can keep the suit.”

Peter turned, his attention caught for a second.

“But you _really_ don’t want to leave. I can’t keep you safe if you’re not on my team.”

“I can keep _myself_ safe, Tony.” Peter snapped.

“No, no, I know that,” Tony said. “But without me around to do maintenance on your tech you could get stranded. And without me around in general, well. I can’t let you run around working outside the law without anyone to guide you. You’re fifteen, and people won’t like that.”

“They don’t have to know that.”

“Kid, I’m a celebrity. The media can and will find out anything they want to,” Tony said. “They won’t see you as a hero. They already see you as a vigilante at best. They’ll spin you as a lost little boy swept up in the criminal underworld. It doesn’t matter how capable you are.”  
“How would that stop me?” Peter asked. “I don’t care what people think-”

“But the law will.” That stopped him. “You’re a minor. A child. If people know- they’ll _ruin your life_ . You’ve had a death in your family. You’re an orphan. Throwing yourself into situations like you do is practically _suicidal_ . They’ll say you are. Your aunt, your sole legal guardian- has done nothing to stop you. Child endangerment, neglect, for sure. Your teachers, anyone who’s seen you tumble in from a battle with two black eyes something huge to hide, has reputation damage _at best_.”

Tony shrugged, as best he could.

“If you think you can handle that firestorm, by all means, I won’t stop you.” He watched as Peter’s body language _collapsed_ ; the boy crossed his arms, stared at the floor. His shoulders sagged.

“I know you won’t let anybody stop you doing the right thing.” Tony continued. “But I’ll enable you to do it _safely_. We can talk about the accords in three years when your signature will mean something.”

Peter rocked slightly onto his heels, sucking air through his teeth.

“Okay.” He said, very quietly. He took a step closer. “But, but, there are gonna be _terms_ , okay? You- you have to _tell me_ about stuff. I want full information on _everything_ . Starting _now_ . And, and, and- I want to be able to opt out of...stuff if I don’t have to be there. And you can’t tell my aunt anything. I want it in writing. I know you can make a contract _with_ a minor.”

“Sure. Absolutely. I’ll make you an A.I or something.” Tony said, mentally thanking god that it’d worked. “Now, c’mon, get me out of this.”  

“Sorry.” Peter said, scampering over with the dissolvent. “I. I’ll. I overreacted. Next time I’ll _talk_ about it.”  

“Yeah, that _might_ be a good idea,” Tony answered.

He was going to keep on with his original plan. He was going to sculpt this kid into the best damn superhero the world had ever seen. Make his dreams come true.

First order of work: communication. 

**Author's Note:**

> fun fact the working title for this was "spidey's fuckin PISSED"


End file.
